Welcome to London
by patemalah21
Summary: What happens when John Watson meets some of the most devoted fans of his blog? Will he survive? A fic dedicated to the ladies of the Mrs. Hudson's Kitchen forum.


A/_N This fic is lovingly dedicated to the ladies of Mrs. Hudson's Kitchen Forum._

_Disclaimer: All characters are fictional. Any resemblance to any living persons is purely accidental._

**Welcome To London**

John pushed the door open to Speedy's Cafe and was greeted with a long queue of customers at the take away counter. He sighed; Speedy's was becoming an attraction for tourists and no longer gave the quick service its name implied. He peered past the counter into the limited seating area and saw that all the tables were occupied. In one corner, several tables had been pushed together and were being used by a rather large group of chattering women. John allowed his gaze to travel over the group. They seemed happy and excited. Several of the women were probably older than he, but they were all lovely and John appreciated beautiful women no matter their age. He pursed his lips and wondered if he went over and struck up a conversation if any of them would be interested in a date. Some of them wore wedding rings, but not all.

He wondered if he should approach them, but decided against it. Women in large groups tended to be a little intimidating. John had not fared well in the dating area lately and he was beginning to worry that he had lost his touch when it came to attracting women. The last thing he needed was to be ridiculed en masse.

One of the women looked up and stared. She turned to her friends and said something. In moments, the whole group was staring in his direction while making odd squeeing sounds.

John got a strange nervous feeling. He turned around to see what celebrity was behind him, but the people there looked ordinary to him. From the way the women reacted, he expected to see Tom Cruise or Michael Fassbender at least. When he turned back around he was shocked to see that the ladies were headed straight for him!

"You're John Watson!" A lovely woman with a distinct Canadian voice said. The other ladies nodded and began to talk excitedly all at the same time.

"We recognized you from your pic . . ."

"I love your writing style . . ."

"I can't believe we ran into you!"

"You are more handsome than your photo. . ."

"Could we have your autograph?"

John held up his hands, "Whoa there, you are actually talking to me?"

"Oh yes! We just love your blog!" said a small woman with a pink extension in her hair. She had a lovely French accent and John gazed at her petite form in admiration.

"We're fans of you blog!" said a short attractive lady with silver hair.

"We've read everything you have written!" another woman gushed. "We came here because you mentioned Speedy's in several postings!"

John frowned slightly. They were honest to goodness fans of his?

"Where are you from exactly?" he asked.

Several of the women giggled girlishly. "Oh, we are from all over the world! We belong to an online writer's forum called _The Kitchen_. We decided to meet up in London. This is the first time we've met in person," said a thin woman who was wearing a badge that said _I love my dog Toot_.

"We were going to meet at J's house, but her roof caved in and now she has this big erection in the front of her house," informed a cute woman with long blonde hair who was dressed in jeans and a tee shirt covered with Chinese letters. "HI, she said rather breathlessly, you can call me Chas."

John raised his eyebrows at her comment about the erection, but was interrupted by an excited voice.

"That's me. I'm J, I'm the one with the erection."

John smiled and wisely decided not to say anything.

One by one they introduced themselves and shook his hand.

"Wait a minute!" John said, "I think I remember some of you making comments on my blog."

"Yes!" they all practically shouted.

John was overwhelmed. These beautiful women were his fans? He could hardly believe it.

Before he could say anything else, another of the women interrupted with, "Are you and Sherlock on a case? Will he be joining you here?"

John shook his head. "No, Sherlock is out of town at the moment. And I'm afraid I never talk about ongoing cases with the public." He smiled to take the sting out of his words.

There was a collective sigh of disappointment. John wasn't sure if it was for the fact Sherlock was out of town or because he wouldn't talk about an active case.

Soon, John found himself at the table with the women gathered about him. They continued peppering him with questions. He found that he was thoroughly enjoying himself. It did wonders for his ego. With ladies from Canada, Europe and China present, it was like he was once again '_Three Continents Watson.'_ When it was suggested that he accompany them on their tour of London, he graciously accepted.

They had a wonderful day. First they visited Trafalgar square, and China Town. Then, since John had missed lunch, they stopped at a lovely old pub called _The Cloak and Dagger_. Its spy and detective paraphernalia décor was fascinating and the food delicious. Next they visited a tiny museum that was dedicated solely to crime and its detection. It was all very educational. Last they stopped by New Scotland Yard and John introduced them to D. I. Lestrade. John could tell Greg was very impressed with his entourage. It had been a perfect day. Everyone got on so well, it seemed as if they had known each other for years.

As they left the Yard, several of the married ladies bid farewell and headed back to their hotels. The rest gathered about John and began thanking him profusely for such a marvelous day.

John stared at the pavement, embarrassed, and then had a sudden thought.

"You know ladies, the night is still young. What do you say we go back to my flat and I'll show you my blog?"

There was a long silent pause. The Canadian snickered. "That's not like inviting us up to see your etchings, is it?"

John stared for a moment, and then turned beet red. "Oh god no!" he exclaimed. "I just was asking if you all would like to see the flat. It's innocent, I assure you. My landlady lives downstairs and has eyes and ears like an owl. You would be perfectly safe. You know; I'm sorry, just forget I said anything!"

"I think that is a lovely idea John," the girl with the French accent whose name was Lu, said softly. "We would love to see your flat."

"Not to mention meet Mrs. Hudson!" Chas exclaimed. "We've read so much about her."

The rest of the group chorused their agreement.

So the now somewhat smaller group headed for Baker Street. They stopped off at Tesco's on the way and picked up some snacks, makings for sandwiches, limes, and several bottles of Tequila.

Once at the flat, John introduced them to Mrs. Hudson. The girls were thrilled. Mrs. Hudson insisted on helping make sandwiches and soon fit right in and became part of the group.

"I think it is wonderful that you girls want to get to know John. He's such a lovely boy." Mrs. Hudson smiled.

Much later, after Mrs. Hudson had left for the night, they opened the Tequila and began talking about the stories they had written. John was both shocked and flattered that they had written fictional adventures about Sherlock and himself. He felt a little flushed when he realized that some of those stories were rather risqué.

"I'm not gay," he muttered into his Tequila. The girl named Mabel, or maybe Marbella, or something like that, John's brain was a little fuzzy from the Tequila shots, sat down beside him on the couch. He put his arm around her and repeated in a sincere, but very sloppy voice, "I'm not gay."

Mabel/Marbella grinned and handed him another drink.

"We like you just the way you are," she assured him.

John did not realize that everyone else had stopped drinking. He downed his drink and giggled.

"Tell us about Sherlock." Mabel whispered.

John smiled, "Oh, you would love him, he's brilliant!" John stared at his empty glass, frowned then said, "Well, maybe not. Some people think he is a git."

"Do you like him?" asked Mabel or whatever her name was. John really liked her Canadian accent.

"Of course I like him!" John said. He looked at her suspiciously and clarified. "He's my friend."

"Is that all he is?" she asked as she pushed another drink into his hands.

"Yes," John said. He paused, downed the drink, and then said, "Mostly."

"Ah!" she said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

Mabel giggled. "Oh, nothing. Forget I said anything."

"Okay," John said and downed another drink.

Mabel leaned closer and whispered. "Are you sure Sherlock and you are not more than friends?"

John looked at her hazily. "You have pretty eyes," he slurred.

Mabel sighed and the hovering women giggled. "Give up Mabel," Lu said. You are not going to get him to admit anything, and I for one, am rather relieved."

Mabel stuck out her tongue at Lu, squared her shoulders and leaned into John and whispered in his ear. John's ears turned red and he giggled.

Encouraged, Mabel whispered in his ear again. John turned red all over.

"Maybe," he said and giggled drunkenly.

Mabel whispered once more. John's eyes widened and he looked at the small group of hovering women like a starved man at a banquet. "Okeydokey," he said and got up and staggered to the loo. Mabel followed him discreetly as possible and waited just outside the door.

The rest of the group watched with open mouths.

There was a loud thud and sharp swear words from the bathroom.

"Are you okay, do you need help?" Mabel asked in a concerned voice.

"I'm f-fine." John sang out. "Bloody floor got in the way. I'm fine."

A few moments later, he staggered out of the loo, handed something to Mabel, who quickly thrust it into her pocket before the others could see what it was. She helped John walk back to the couch and made sure he was comfortably seated.

"I'm ready!" John giggled and pursed his lips. Then he promptly passed out.

"What did he mean, He's ready?" Chas demanded. "And what did you put in your pocket? Did he give you something?"

Mabel giggled. "I asked him if he actually wore red pants!"

"You didn't."

"Oh you wicked girl!"

"Does he wear red pants?"

For an answer, Mabel laughed and pulled a pair of red briefs out of her pocket and waved them in the air. "They don't call me the Grand Poobah of the Wicked Academy for nothing!" she crowed. "I think I'll have them framed so we can hang them in the kitchen!"

The resulting squeals were enough to temporarily revive John who demanded payment for his gift.

"What did you promise him Mabel?" Lu asked in a horrified voice.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, I only promised that we would all kiss him," Mabel sniffed. "Where's your spirit of adventure? We didn't come all this way to be Goody Two Shoes!"

They all stared at John, who grinned drunkenly up at them.

"You go first, it was your idea! I'm not sure this is fair to him, he is hardly in a position to defend himself," Lu said faintly.

"Relax, It's just a kiss. If he doesn't remember it in the morning there is no harm done, and if he does, well, he will probably brag about it for years!"

Mabel leaned down and gave the now reclining Dr. Watson a quick kiss on the mouth. She wasn't prepared for his reaction. John's arms came around her and he deepened the kiss to a very sloppy snog. Then he passed out again.

The women squealed and pulled Mabel back to her feet. "Oh my! Mabel breathed, that was . . . wet, but rather nice!"

The ladies were all in a flutter. They watched John for additional signs of revival, but sadly concluded that he was out for the count.

"I don't suppose there is any point in kissing him now," Chas said sadly. "He wouldn't even know he had been kissed."

"I've got an idea," Mabel smirked. "Gather round ladies, we have work to do!"

**ɸ**

The next morning, John awoke with the mother of all hangovers. He groaned softly and sat up carefully.

"I see you have had an eventful night John," Sherlock said from the doorway of the kitchen. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"You're back," John said as he gratefully accepted the glass of water and two tablets Sherlock handed him.

"It's very astute of you to notice, John."

"Argh! Not so loud," John complained holding his head.

"Really John, What were you thinking? Five women at once?" Sherlock tutted.

"Shut up!" John growled. His face brightened briefly as he looked at his friend. "There were ten for most of the day. The married ones left before we got to the flat."

"Hmm," Sherlock said. "Well you best clean up before Mrs. Hudson sees you and has a heart attack."

John looked at his flat mate questioningly. Sherlock merely pointed at him. John looked down and to his surprise he found that his shirt was open and his stomach was covered in perfectly made lipstick kiss impressions.

"Bloody hell, I don't remember any of this!" John swore. He saw a small bit of white paper sticking out of his shirt pocket. He pulled it out and read the short message.

"_Thanks for a day to remember Johnny-boy! You were fantastic! Love, _

_The Ladies of the Kitchen._

"Go take a look at your face," Sherlock snickered.

John gave him a dirty look and wobbled off to the loo. Moments later there was a loud screech. "Bloody Hell!" he shouted. Where's my moustache? They shaved off my moustache!"

Sherlock laughed and called out, "I never liked that caterpillar under your lip anyway. In my opinion, they did you a favor!"

A few seconds later, there was an even louder roar from the direction of the bathroom.

"What the f# *&?." John roared. "They stole my pants!"


End file.
